Just the beginning
by LoveIsInTheAirContest
Summary: Bella is about to embark on her first overseas flight. Due to mechanical difficulties, departure is delayed. And it's just the beginning. All human


**Love Is In the Air O/S Contest**

**Title: **Just the beginning

**Rating & Any Needed Warning: **Rated T due to mild swearing.

**Word Count:** 4 495 words

**Pairing:** Edward/Bella

**Summary:** Bella is about to embark on her first overseas flight. Due to mechanical difficulties, departure is delayed. And it's just the beginning. All human.

**Disclaimer:** Let me make this simple: You recognize it? I don't own it. All right? All right. Let's go.

Sunday, August 29th, 22:00, PST

I have just arrived in Seattle and only half an hour late. There was a short delay in Philly. The grooming of the plane required an extra 30 minutes.

That expression makes me laugh. "Grooming", really? Are we talking about a plane or a poodle? What's wrong with saying "cleaning up"? It's not like people don't realize that the flight is delayed because the attendants have to clean up some vomit. As long as no one can smell it, who cares?

I didn't smell any vomit. And I was mostly just glad to be on my way. I had chased the sunset across the continent. There is something fundamentally amazing about that.

I'm really doing it. I am going to Australia for two weeks by myself. My dad drove me to the airport, stayed with me until it was time to go through customs and wait at the gate, and then he gave me a big hug, which was a bit awkward since neither of us are huggers by nature. Then I was alone. I won't see him, or anyone else I know, for two weeks. I'm a little nervous, but mostly I'm excited. Besides, I'm not going to be completely cut off. I still have my laptop. Give me wi-fi and I'm fine.

I love living in the future. In fifteen hours I can be around the globe, and I can get in touch with my friends and family for free – or for a relatively low fee, if free wi-fi isn't available. And, come on, this is 2010. No respectable urban area is completely devoid of free Internet access anymore. Especially not a city that was welcoming the World Science-Fiction convention for the fourth time! The convention is the whole reason I'm taking this trip, and like I said, I'm really excited.

I'm also tired. I hope that this flight won't be delayed. I can't wait to take my over-the-counter sleeping pills and check out. I've been up for sixteen hours.

Monday, August 30th, 0:00 PST

According to the flight information provided by the airline, we were supposed to begin boarding the plane ten minutes ago. Normally, that would have worried me because that's just who I am, punctual to the point of being anal. If we have a date, and you're not ten minutes early, you're late by my watch. I realize how annoying it is.

Anyway, the reason I'm not overly upset is that the airline personnel already sent a message about mechanical difficulties and that the flight would be delayed until 1 AM. I looked at my printout and did a little math. If my calculations were correct and if the security and custom process in Australia went really, really well, then I would probably just make my connection flight from Sydney to Melbourne. So I should be fine.

I can keep my mind busy with something other than obsessing about delays and keeping schedule for an hour. Really, I can. I decide to follow some west coast night birds on Twitter and the airport is covered in a wi-fi net. Besides, when all else fails, there's always marathon Solitaire-ing.

Monday, August 30th, 1:00 PST

The International section of SeaTac is now empty. Except for our gate, of course. There had been only one other flight announced on the board – flying to Japan. They boarded their plane half an hour ago…on time.

There has been no new announcement, no explanation for the additional delay. All I can do, all any of us can do, is sit here and wait.

Okay, now I am getting worried.

Monday August 30th, 2:00 PST

My computer had been shoved into my overnight bag a while ago. I gave myself a headache staring at it for so long. Besides, even the marathon Solitaire-ing wasn't enough to keep me distracted. I'm not worried anymore; I am totally freaking out.

There is no way in the world I would be able to make my connection now. Which means it's either pay for a new plane ticket once I get to Australia or be stranded in Sydney. That is, of course, assuming that the plane does go to Australia. Which it might not. Maybe the airline will just say "No, the plane is too broken, you can't fly to Australia, sorry. Buy another ticket on a different plane." Which I can't do because I don't have that kind of money saved up. I would have to fly back home. But I really want to go to the Worldcon.

And what about my hotel room? Assuming that I do make it to Melbourne, somehow, I would be really late. Maybe they won't keep my room for me. Then where would I stay? What would I do?

Why won't they just tell us SOMETHING?

Monday August 30th, 3:00 (ish) PST

You know that feeling when you've just woken up? Usually, you don't even notice it, not really, because you remember settling down for the night, or for a nap, and so waking up makes sense. When you do remember, it's pretty unsettling.

I remember going to the bathroom and finding that my former seat had been taken when I came back. I remember seeing some people sitting on the floor, and thinking that might not be so bad. I remember fiddling around a little bit and eventually laying down on my stomach with my head pillowed in my arms because it was the most comfortable position. Next thing I know, I'm waking up.

I don't even remember falling asleep. Does anybody ever remember falling asleep? I don't.

The feeling of waking up is especially disconcerting since I told myself I couldn't fall asleep. Not until I heard something from the airline personnel. What if they made their announcement while I was asleep and I missed it? Others are taking naps. I can see them, but they're in groups with others who could wake them if something happened. I am alone.

Oh, my God! What if they DID make their announcement while I was asleep just now and I missed it?

In a moment of panic, I turn to a guy I notice sitting to my right. "They didn't say anything, did they?"

"No," the guy answers. I sit up and turn to get a better look at him. He looks pretty much like anyone else around. He's wearing a 'weekend' suit, with a polo shirt and no tie. He's young, maybe my age, and tall and thin. Also, he's cute… very cute. He has crazy, bronze-colored bed hair and really green eyes, and ...

Wait a minute. Is he smirking at me?

He is. He's totally smirking at me.

Well, excuse the hell out me, Mr. International Jet-Setter. Just because you've flown around the world twenty times doesn't mean that the rest of us can't be anxious about the whole experience, okay? I turn my head away in a huff.

"First time flying?" he asks smugly.

"No." I want to keep my answer short, abrupt even. Don't say anything else, Bella. Don't. "It's my first time traveling alone. And overseas. And now I'm going to be really late and I hate being late. How long do you think before they let us on the plane?"

"Not until tomorrow morning, I guess. I just can't figure out why they haven't shuffled us off to a hotel already."

I am so discouraged at the news. I completely lose all dignity and start whining. Which gives International Jet-Setter another golden opportunity to show how much of a 'prince' he is. "What? If you're not in Sydney at noon, you change into a pumpkin?"

"Shut up, you idiot! I just told you that I hate being late! And now, I'm gonna be super late. I'm supposed to catch a plane to Melbourne. I've already bought the ticket. But there's no way I'm gonna make it now. I'm gonna have to buy another ticket. And by the time I finally get to Melbourne, they'll have given my hotel room away and I won't have a place to stay. And on top of that, I'm gonna have to spend the night at the airport! I should just turn around and head back home. Maybe by train, it's probably cheaper."

Yeah, that's it. I'm gonna cry. In front of the pretty boy, International-Jet-Setter idiot jerk. That only makes me cry harder.

"Hey," he says in a worried tone. "Hey, don't cry. Come on, please don't cry. What's your name?"

"What's my name?" Where does he get off asking that? "What's _your_ name?"

"Fair enough. My name is Edward Cullen and I'm really sorry about the way I spoke just now. I was very rude, I know. I tend to forget how upsetting it can be to travel overseas, especially with long hold-ups like this. The first few times I went to Australia, I was with my boss and other co-workers. I think you're very brave to make this trip by yourself, miss ..."

Now he's flattering me, deliberately fishing for my name. I choose to let it work. "Swan. Bella. My first name is Bella."

"Well, Bella, I promise you that everything is going to be okay. You're not the only one with a connection, I'm sure. The airline will make arrangements. They're probably doing it right now. I bet that's why it's taking them so long to send us away. When night flights are laid-over for many hours, the airline makes arrangements with a hotel nearby to get everybody rooms. You won't have to spend the night here unless you want to. And the hotel in Melbourne won't give your room away. You've made a deposit and you haven't called to cancel."

Okay, so maybe pretty boy International-Jet-Setter isn't an idiot jerk. I guess Edward knows what he's talking about; he just admitted to making this trip many times. He makes good sense and his predictions sooth my frayed nerves. He says the kind of thing I would have told myself to try and calm down. But if I'd been the one saying it, it wouldn't have worked because of the combined evil powers of 'what if' and 'how would you know'. Edward knows and he said everything will be all right, so I believe him.

Edward. It's a nice name. It's a bit old fashioned, but I like it. I like that he assumes his name and doesn't try to shorten it. Think about it, there are no good nicknames for Edward. Ed? Eddie? Teddy? Yuck.

"Do you feel better now?" he asks.

"Yes. A lot better, actually. Thank you, Edward."

"You're welcome, Bella. You know, if you want to take another nap, I can wake you up when they inevitably invite us to go to a hotel for the night."

I don't even have to think about it. I'm still surging from the adrenaline rush of my small panic attack earlier and there's no way I could sleep now. So my options are to pretend to sleep or try to figure out the mystery of Edward. Really, it's like cake or death.

"I'd rather get to know you a bit better, if you don't mind."

And so we start talking.

He tells me that he's a corporate lawyer for a big company in Chicago that also has offices in Sydney. I tell him that I recently finished my Master's degree in Library science and that I am planning to look for a job as a librarian once I come back from this trip.

He shares stories about his father, the compassionate doctor, and his mother, the interior designer with the biggest heart in the world. I reciprocate with stories about my father, the policeman of few words, and my mother, the carefree child stuck in an adult's body.

He tells me about his love of music, which began with his piano lessons when he was eight. I tell him about my love of science-fiction and fantasy, how I wanted to go to the Worldcon since they came to Philadelphia in 2001, but my parents wouldn't pay for the admission. They didn't mind if I went, but I had to pay for myself and it couldn't interfere with school. So I've only been to two conventions – the one in Denver and the one in Montreal. This will be my third.

We talk about our families and our friends, about our likes and dislikes, about everything and nothing.

The more we talk, the more fascinated I become with him. I don't agree with everything he says, but you have to admire the passion with which he defends his opinion. He has such a wonderful sense of humor, he keeps me laughing almost all the time. He is as beautiful on the inside as he is on the outside.

He pays attention to me – not in a way that makes me feel awkward or self-conscious, just the opposite, in fact. It's as though he is just as fascinated by me as I am by him. And I think maybe there's something more. A look in his eyes, a slight catch in his voice.

I wish I had better people skills. Then I would know for sure if he is flirting with me.

The airport personnel choose the perfect moment to let us know that our flight will not be taking off tonight. Special arrangements are being made for those of us who would prefer to spend the night in a hotel and we are invited to present ourselves to the check-in counters. That invitation is also extended to those of us who have already bought a ticket for a connecting flight to Melbourne, meaning me. I get up.

"You're leaving?" asks Edward.

"Well, yes. I mean, I have to go get that information about my connecting flight, you know? Besides, it's not like you were planning on spending the whole night here." I giggle at the thought. He doesn't and that quiets me very fast. "Were you?"

"Not exactly," he says softly. He's blushing a little. "It's just ... I was having a really good time talking to you, and I didn't want it to end, is all. But you know what they say about good things. I guess this is it." He slowly gets up, looking sad.

Oh my God, he really was flirting with me. And in a few minutes we'll go our separate ways and never see each other again and I don't want that.

"You know," I say quickly, before I can think any better, "we could always say that we're together and share a hotel room."

He looks at me, shocked. He can't be more shocked then I am. Did those words really just come out of my mouth? Every logical instinct I have is telling me to take it back, but something stronger than logic is pushing me on. "We don't have to do anything. I mean, we just met, and I'm not that kind of girl. But I really like talking with you, too, and I don't want our time together to end either, so..."

He interrupts me with a hug and a kiss on the temple. I can feel his smile against my skin. "Let's go, then."

He sounds as excited as I am.

Monday August 30th, 7:30 PST

I think I've spent the best night of my life. Or at least the best four hours.

Edward and I only spent twenty minutes apart when we each took our turn in the bathroom to get ready for the night. He didn't pressure me, nothing sexual happened. We just lay there together, talking and hugging, until we fell asleep in each other's arms. I'm actually kind of upset about that last bit; the time we spent sleeping, we didn't really spend together.

And now I'm waking up alone in a hotel room.

This could have been really bad, and in fact it probably should have been really bad, but it's not. The first thing I see upon waking up is his carry-on bag. He's obviously planning to come back to the room. I'm just going to settle back and wait for him.

_Or not._ I just glance at the clock and see that it's seven-thirty. We were told last night that the first shuttle would pass at eight o'clock and that we would have to go through a second security check. Boarding is supposed to begin at eleven. I don't really have the time to wait. I just have enough time to get dressed and catch that first shuttle.

_Shit!_ I can't just leave like that. Edward will come back and find the room empty. And if I leave now, there's the very real possibility that I may never see him again. I only stumbled across him last night – I mean really early this morning – by luck. There's no guarantee that we'll find each other today.

I refuse to just leave like that. Let's face it, we live in the future. I'll just leave him a note with my email address, telling him that I want to stay in touch. That's it. Problem solved.

I clean up for the day and get dressed in record time. Thankful for the habit of always carrying a pencil and some paper in my purse, I grab them and spend the next few minutes trying to find the words.

_Dear Edward,_

_The shuttle will leave soon, and I don't want to miss it. But I also don't want you to find the room empty when you return. I hope that we'll see each other at the airport before we board the plane. If we don't, I want you to know the last few hours have been almost a miracle. I loved getting to know you and I think that you're wonderful. At the risk of sounding greedy, I want more. My email address is . Please stay in touch with me. I will wait impatiently for you to write me._

_With love, Bella._

I leave the note on the nightstand, over his wallet, where I'm sure he'll find it. Then I grab my bags and I'm out the door.

Monday August 30th, 11:00 PST

I'm not sure where I got the idea that the plane would really be boarding at eleven. I'm too optimistic for my own good, I guess.

The announcement board changed, maybe fifteen minutes ago, and now the boarding time read 13:00. So I'm back to where I was, ten hours ago, using my laptop to try and keep busy for a few hours. The difference this time is that I'm checking my email rather compulsively, hoping to see something from Edward. So far…nothing.

I look up for a minute, to rest my eyes, and I see Edward across the lounge. He's talking with someone else and the discussion seems to be rather intense.

Should I go to him? After leaving that note, was it too desperate? Maybe he wasn't interested in me. Maybe I was just a way to pass a few hours. Maybe he decided that I wasn't worth the trouble because we didn't have sex. Maybe he's upset with me for leaving the hotel without him.

I hear a voice directly to my right saying "convention" and my mind automatically shifts away from my obsessive inner monologue. The two guys standing next to me are indeed talking about the Worldcon and there's a small, silly part of me that is relieved to hear that. I'm not the only person in America taking that plane to go to that convention and somehow that makes me feel a lot better.

They are now talking about our ETA in Sydney. I interject myself in the conversation and inform them that if we leave at one in the afternoon, we will arrive in Sydney on Tuesday, at nine in the evening. "That doesn't sound right," one of them says, then proceeds to do the math and get it wrong. I tune him out, refusing to care; we'll see who's right when we get to Sydney.

I look back to where I last saw Edward. He disappeared, of course. Stupid Bella, you could have spent the last minute looking at Edward instead of butting in the conversation of those two people with inferior math skills.

I look back at my computer and refresh my Gmail. Nothing.

Monday August 30th, 13:00 PST

The call just sounded. The plane is boarding. _Finally!_ Not a minute too soon.

The people with disabilities and those with young children were invited to board about half an hour ago and they slowly made their way. Now it is the turn of the business class. I study the passengers, hoping for one last glimpse of Edward. I can't see him. I guess the business crowd is too thick.

Finally, they call economy. I grab my bags and follow the steps I followed almost twenty-four hours ago in Philly. Show the person at the counter my boarding pass and my passport, walk the tunnel to the plane, find my seat – make sure I sit in the right row, that was an embarrassing mistake – and settle down. I've chosen the window seat, but there's not much to look at out there right now. I browse through the selection of on-board entertainment. The selection is bigger than in the Philly-Seattle flight, which I guess makes sense. I've just about chosen what movie I'll watch first when I hear him calling out to me.

"Good afternoon, Bella."

No way.

No freaking way.

I turn to the left, looking slightly up into the face of my new seating neighbor.

Way.

"Edward, what are you doing here?"

"I'm going to Australia." The smirk is back. That same smirk that irritated the shit out of me ten hours ago. Still does, to a lesser degree. Want to be a smartass, do you, Cullen?

"Don't act like you don't know what I'm talking about. Your seat is in business class. Why are you sitting in economy?"

"Oh, that. That's actually a funny story. It started about ten hours ago. I was waiting for a flight which I knew would not board until morning when this pretty girl grabbed my attention. I don't want to bore you with details of how brave she is to cross the Pacific by herself, or how much of a jerk I was to her, or how she kindly gave me a chance to rectify a terrible first impression. You were there. So, after spending hours together, I left the hotel room we shared to go get the newspaper, and when I came back, she was gone. Turns out, the poor darling is an allegrophobe."

"Alle-what?"

"Allegrophobe – suffers from allegrophobia, the fear of being late."

"I don't have a phobia. I just don't like being late. Besides, allegrophobia sounds like a made-up word. I'm sure it's not real."

"You, my dear, have an irrational fear of being late which interferes with your daily life. That is the very definition of a phobia. Besides, I'm the one telling the story. So, our allegrophobic beauty disappears in the early light, leaving behind this."

Edward produces the note I left for him this morning from the inside pocket of his vest. The fact that he kept my note close to his heart pleases me at a level I simply can't put into words.

"My first thought was to run down to the lobby to catch up with her, which I did. Only I was too late, the shuttle had already left. My second thought was to write to her immediately. I started to count how much time we would have to talk before boarding, and then maybe we would have some time after we landed, before she makes her connection. I thought it would be wonderful if we could spend those fifteen hours together, and I wondered, why not? Why don't I just switch seats with whoever is sitting next to her? Surely they won't mind the upgrade. So that's what I did. I caught the next shuttle and I spent the last five hours or so finding out who was sitting next to you so we could exchange seats."

"They let you do it, the airport people?" I ask.

"Obviously. Otherwise I wouldn't be sitting here."

"And you are willing to spend fifteen hours in these cramped economy seats for me?" Can this get any more romantic?

"For us." Apparently it can. "Besides," he continues, "it won't be as cramped as you think it will be."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean that the gods are with us, my love. There was no-one sitting in the middle of the row, so I switched with the person in the aisle seat. We have the whole row to ourselves. Individuals might be more comfortable in business class, but this works better for couples, I think. More cuddles opportunities."

That sounds like a wonderful idea to me and I immediately put it in motion, pressing myself against him as he wraps his arms around my shoulders.

"You know what I was thinking?" I ask. He shakes his head. "I was thinking that Chicago can probably use a master of Library Science just as much as Philadelphia does."

"It probably can. But are you sure?" He leans away from me and turns until we face each other. His expression is so serious, so intense. "The two cities are a long way from each other. You don't think it's too much, too far, too fast?"

"I don't if you don't," I answer, looking straight into his eyes, hoping to convey my sincerity to him. "Besides, they aren't that far away from each other. Of course, you don't drive fourteen hours every weekend. But, you know, for the holidays, a few times a year, it's not completely unreasonable."

If the sudden humor in his eyes and the small, teasing smile on his lip are any indication, he is not only convinced, but also amused. "I guess not. When did you Google how long it takes to drive from Chicago to Philadelphia?"

"A couple of hours ago. It was something to do while I waited for you to write, or for the call to start boarding, whichever came first."

"That reminds me." He pulls something out of his pocket, the same pocket where he kept my note, and gives it to me. It's a card, like a business card, but blank. On one side, hand-written in perfect calligraphy and blue ink, are his cell phone number and his email adress.

"Let me know the minute you get to Melbourne," he whispers passionately. I hold the card against my chest, wishing that my jacket also had an inside breast pocket, or any kind of breast pocket, so I could keep his card close to my heart.

"I promise," was my whispered answer. We lean into each other once more as the plane starts to roll, preparing for take-off.


End file.
